


Punk's Not Dead (Well, Mostly)

by kinkskeleton



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mobtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underlust (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fake Science, Falling In Love, Fear of Rejection, Fluff, Gaster Papyrus (Undertale), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Horrortale Papyrus (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Light Angst, Love At First Fight, M/M, Magic and Science, Meet-Cute, Mild Smut, Monsterphobia, Multi, Multiple Universes Colliding, Multiverse, Other, Papyrus is secretly really into it, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Protective Papyrus (Undertale), Sinnamon Roll Papyrus (Undertale), Slightly sadistic reader, Social Anxiety, Soulmates, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), and im sorry, because now it's more than light angst, implied soulmates, nonbinary reader, protective Reader, this took a turn i wasnt expecting, though you can definitely put any gender you feel on 'em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkskeleton/pseuds/kinkskeleton
Summary: You're not really one for believing in things like destiny, fate, or love at first sight, but the skeleton monster you run into at your first punk concert might just change that for you. Maybe it's the fact that he's kind of just your type (weirdly, for being a skeleton), or maybe it's the fact that adrenaline is a hell of an aphrodisiac, but, either way; something about him really rocks your world.





	1. Stay Gold- Wait, Wrong Fandom.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup. What can I say; you've read my name, right?

You can feel the beat of the music thrumming through your chest, shaking your body along with the moshing crowd. It's exhilarating, and slightly terrifying at the same time. You don't know how you ended up in the mosh pit, jumping and pumping your fist in the air as high as the rest of your fellow concert goers. The stage is alight with purple, blue, and red, and the floor rolls with fog that almost hides the band's feet. The singer up front makes eye contact with you as he holds the mic stand up into the air and sends you a wink before dropping the stand and walking to the other side of the stage with the mic in hand: singing his heart out to the fans and revolutionaries that have come to hear something worthwhile. You take a breath and step back through the crowd, passing by moshers with the ease of mutual respect between fellow punks. Stepping out of the fray, you make your way around the outer ring of watchers, who are mainly holding drinks and standing, relaxed. Pushing the large metal doors at the front of the building open, you slide out and into the chilly night air. It's refreshingly painful as it fills your lungs, and you heave a sigh through your nose. As nice as the atmosphere of the place was, the heat and pounding music within weren't exactly easy to deal with this late at night. As you turn to lean against the wall, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. It's nothing too obvious: just the glint of metal, and a red spark falling to the ground.  


A cigarette cherry, you think as you turn your head fully in its direction. A tall, lanky figure is leaning against the wall, pose relaxed and slightly slouched. His white, skeletal fingers hold a smoldering cigarette between them. He's tall, maybe six seven, but you can't tell for sure with his current posture. The humans with him, though, are what really catch your attention. There are two men, of average build and height, standing directly in front of the skeleton monster. They wouldn't be imposing at all, if it weren't for the knives clutched in either of their hands. They glint silver in the moon's light. Something like excitement (though you'd never admit that was what it was) pounds through you, calling you towards the scene. You step closer slowly, quietly, trying to stay within the shadows the overhang of the building casts against the dark tarmac below your feet. As you come closer, you can hear their conversation (if it could be called that).  


"Listen, you skeletal piece of shit. We don't want people like you around here. You shouldnt'a come to a place like this," one of the men speaks in a low, gravelly voice. His black hair hangs in a thick, oily sheet. His co-conspirator chimes in with a vaguely squeaky voice you'd snort at if it weren't for the situation.  


"Yeah! Your kind dirty up the place, fillin' everywhere you go with the type'a evil that makes you. Don't think anyone'd notice if you went missing, monster." The skeleton monster doesn't acknowledge them, besides flicking his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with the heel of his boot. The black haired one sneers, seeming incensed by his silence. You slip your hand into the inside pocket of your jacket, and your fingers close around the taser within.  


"What, we not good enough to deign an answer, huh?" He turns to his buddy. "I think we oughta teach this punk a lesson, huh?" The mousy one snickers, nodding along.  


"We oughta do just that," he says, holding up his knife and pointing it at the skeleton, who stands up from his position of leaning against the wall and stuffs his hands into his dark jeans. The leader of the two tilts his own blade and takes a threatening step forwards as you finally encroach upon the trio. You pull out the taser as you step out of the shadows, revealing your presence in the slight light the moon gives off. The skeleton monster notices you first, and you watch his shoulders tense as his golden pupils(?) take you in.  


"Really, boys; I do think playtime's over," you press down on the button under your thumb, causing your taser to buzz, electricity arcing between its metal prongs. The two human men turn to you, confusion creasing their faces. Apprehension dawns on the mousy one's expression, but the Snape look-a-like gives you a hard stare as he snarls at you, pointing the knife towards you.  


"Back off, bitch. This is between us and the pile of bones. I wouldn't wanna hurt your pretty little face, but I will if I have to." You bark out a laugh as you step forward once more. His mouth tightens into a hard line, and he nods back at the skeleton as he starts forwards towards you. "Deal with him."  
Your grin widens as he gets closer to you, and you can almost feel your pupils expanding as adrenaline courses through you. You might have a problem, you think, before dismissing the thought for now. You see Mousy go for Skeletor out of the corner of your eyes, but you're too focused on the man advancing on you to worry that he can't hold his own. As soon as he's within striking distance, he jabs out the hand holding his knife and you dodge to the side: spinning around his back and swinging your arm around his throat as you press the taser into the small of his back. He goes still, holding his blade aloft.  


"Really, didn't your mom ever teach you to pick on people your own size," you let out a breathy laugh. "That's okay; I like an easy win." You see his knife moving out of the corner of your eye, and press the metal tongs of your taser into his back. "Down boy," you click the button, and watch as (like magic) he spasms, and his hand releases the knife clutched in it as he falls to his knees. You follow him down and kneel besides him as he twitches on the ground, unable to move. You press the tongs further in and watch him for a few more seconds before releasing your hold on the button and scooping his knife up from the ground. As you stand up, you lift your foot and press it onto his back, leaning most of your weight onto it. Enough to make him wheeze helplessly.  


"Now, I suggest you stay down if you know what's good for you. If you don't, well-" you cut yourself off, breathing in deeply, "Let's just say my wrath is as slow as it is painful." You step off of his back as he regains enough control of his muscles to nod weakly. You smirk in satisfaction, before turning around to check up on the monster that was being harassed by the two men. He's standing, staring at the man you've incapacitated, with a golden sheen over his cheekbones and nasal ridge. You brush it off as you start walking towards him, and glance down at the man crumpled at his feet. He looks incapacitated, but not dead, you note the rise and fall of his chest. His clothes are pinned to the ground with what look like large, white bones, which are also caged around his ankles, wrists, and torso. You tilt your head. Very on brand, and really, really badass. You wonder if you can learn a thing or two from the guy. You turn your eyes back onto said guy as you stop about five feet away from him. His hand reaches up and he scratches it under one of his eyesockets.  


"Hey, uh, thanks for the help," his voice is slightly nasally and a bit loud, but deep. You smile, running a hand through your hair.  


"No problem. I'm always willing to put bullies in their place." He lets out a small laugh that sounds vaguely like a "nyeh" and stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket. It's black, but the zipper and accents are gold, and the hood's lined with fur. He's got good style, you think appreciatively.  


"I see. Well, still- it would be rude of me not to express my gratitude. Would you- eh. Like to go get some food? Feel like we could both use some after this." The golden sheen is back, and there's some type of translucent golden liquid gathering on his brow-bone. It's kind of cute.  


"Sure," you step into his space, giving him a grin as you look up at him, "that sounds nice." The gold brightens somehow, and he returns your smile with one of his own. You hold out your hand and he stares at it for a long moment, eye-sockets widening (Strange. His skull is more flexible than normal bone. Maybe it's a monster thing?) as he takes it in his own, far larger phalanges. He gives you a smile with teeth that look as naturally flexible as the rest of his skull, and starts to lead you to a red motorcycle you had noticed when you had shown up when the concert was first starting. It stood out among the rest of the cars parked in the lot, and you can tell it fits his personality already. Unique and bright. You grin excitedly; it wasn't unknown that you love motorcycles, even though you'd never had one yourself. This skeleton was surely a monster after your own heart.


	2. I'm a Mess, Nice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eating Burger King and a late night swim in Ebott Creek with a skeleton monster you just kicked ass with isn't what you thought you'd be doing with your night, but you can't say that you're dissapointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First dates, am I right?

You laugh as you hop off the motorcycle, stumbling slightly as you try to steady yourself and keep your food safe at the same time. Skele-boy lets out a soft nyeh as he laughs along: kicking down the stand of his bike and sliding the keys into his pocket. You grin up at him and nod your head behind you to the creek-bed. Turning, you make your way down the steep hill, still trying to keep your balance. 

"Seriously, you saw her face. Seeing a couple of dicks pull into the drive thru on a motorcycle is weird enough. The fact that you're a skeleton and I'm practically covered in spikes must have pushed her over the edge. I swear I could see her astral project as we pulled up to the window," you call back as you land at the bottom of the hill. You look back to watch him walk down effortlessly, laughing louder than before. Occasionally there are a few "nyeh" sounds, which is really too adorable for you to even fathom. He shakes his head and steps next to you, wiping a small golden stream of liquid away from under his eye-sockets. 

"I think you're right. I've never really gone to human fast food places, but I think I should try it more." You gasp in feigned offense, holding your hand to your chest as best as you can while holding a large milkshake. 

"Are you saying you've never had Burger King before? This is unacceptable. I'm glad we're popping your BK cherry tonight. Come," you gesture him to follow you as you walk to the edge of the grass, which drops off into sand and creek, where there's a bench a few feet back. Dropping down on it, you twist back to watch him walk after you. His face is golden again as he holds back laughter, trying to look serious. He steps over the back of the bench and lets his legs fall from under him, plopping down onto his skeleton ass(?). 

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry for my sleight against you. Will you ever be able to forgive me?" You poke your tongue out and hand him your milkshake. 

"Maybe. If you're good. Try some." He looks at it for a second, before waving his hand over it. It glows gold briefly, before he sticks the straw between his teeth and drinks (you wonder briefly if he has a tongue) down some of it. His eye-sockets widen, and his eye lights seem to glow even brighter than before as he turns to face you. His voice is definitely louder as he drops the straw from between his teeth and exclaims- 

"This Is Amazing! How Do You Humans Come Up With Something So Good?" You laugh softly, cheeks heating up as you shrug and scratch your head. 

"If there's one thing humans love; it's food. 'S probably what we spend most of our time improving and inventing." He nods as he takes another long sip. 

"That Makes Sense! With All Of Your Options, It's No Wonder Humans Could Come Up With Such Things," he says with the straw stuck in the corner of his mouth. You catch a glimpse of gold as he opens his mouth again and releases it from his teeth's clutches. He sends you a distracted look as he holds the drink back towards you, likely expecting you to take it back into your hands. You grin mischievously as you lean over and take the straw in your mouth, looking up to make eye contact as you suck on it. The milky, chocolaty goodness is as satisfying on your tongue as his face practically glowing gold, eye lights stuck on your mouth. You release the straw and lean back, opening the Burger King bag casually and pulling out the container of chicken fries. You hold one out to your still stock-still skeleton companion as you take a bite of one yourself. He takes it after a moment, and it glows gold as he pops it into his mouth and covers it with his free hand as he chews. Smiling, you finish off another one before dropping the container back into the bag and getting up from the bench. You situate the bag in your place and take the milkshake from his still slightly slack grip, setting it down next to the bag. You grab onto his hand with both of yours and pull him lightly to his feet and back towards the creek. 

"How do you feel about water?" He raises one brow-bone at you as he drops the hand from in front of his mouth, finally recovered. 

"Alright, why?" You grin, dropping his hand and turning around. Your jacket drops to the grass, and your shirt follows. You turn back to him as you shimmy out of your jeans and step out of them. 

"Wanna go for a dip?" He lets out a sound somewhat like a high-pitched squeak. You laugh and jump down onto the sandy creek-bed, letting the water soak your boxer-briefs. You step back, wading further into the water and hold your arms out in a "come hither" motion. He hesitates for a moment, before taking off his jacket and dropping it beside your clothes, before stripping off the rest of his clothes. Laughing, you clap for him. "Woo! Take it off," you joke, grinning lecherously. He shakes his head and steps easily down into the water, jumping slightly as it splashes against the bottom of his boxers, which have small skull and cross-bones covering them. He wades towards you carefully, and you let him catch up. Water laps at the top of your belly button as he stops to stand in front of you, water up to the middle of his pelvis. 

"So, 's it any fun?" You smile up at him, and he nods slightly, glancing off to the side as his face glows. 

"I Suppose!" He gives, loud and halting. You laugh lightly and grab onto his hand, leading him further down the creek, where a waterfall bubbles down, crashing into the water where you stand. He looks up at it and smiles softly, looking like he's remembering something. You run your thumb over his bone knuckles, causing him to look down and smile at you, golden fangs glinting. The water around you both sways and laps at you, and the moonlight shines brightly down on him. You stand on your tip toes and bring your hand up to caress his jawbone, laying your fingers under his chin as you lean up, stretching up towards him. He stoops down slightly and your lips connect with his teeth. You press a peck onto his teeth and trail some against his jawbone. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you up, letting you wrap your legs around his hip bones and rest them against the backs of his thigh bones. You press another kiss against his cheekbone, his forehead, and then his nasal ridge. He lets out a soft 'nyeh' and you breath out a soft laugh. You let your hand trail down and stroke his sternum, eliciting another 'nyeh'. When you rub across his ribs, he buries his face in your neck and pulls you tighter against him, encouraging you. Your hand finds its way to brushing his spine within his ribcage, and he makes a breathy noise as you softly stroke it, huffing hot, moist air onto your neck. Then he moves and you're suddenly sitting on a large rock with him hunched over you, legs caged around your thighs and forehead pressed into the junction between your shoulder and neck. You stroke his spine, lowering your hand slowly as he pants softly. You twist your hand around to brush the inside of his pelvis when you get to the base of his spine, and rub lightly. He lets out a shuttering breath as you stroke down to the coccyx, and grips your shoulders as to rub it. He chokes down a high sound, and you let your fingers splay as you gently palm it. That's when you feel a sharp pain in your shoulder. You stop suddenly, freezing in place as you feel the pained spot get wet, and then sucking against it. Your idea that he might have a tongue is confirmed as you feel him lick across the spot when the sucking stops. You're about to speak, but you stop as you look back between his ribcage, where a monster soul stays suspended, softly glowing gold. 

"Can- do you want me to-" 

"Yes! Please," he interrupts you, voice high and strained. You nod and carefully cup your hands around it, bringing out from under his ribs as he sits straight up and back onto your thighs. It's large, and surprisingly soft and squishy. For some reason you thought it would be more like glass, or fragile china. When you rub your thumbs across the front, it glows slightly brighter, and pushes into your hold. You glance over at him and see that his eyes are closed, and he's panting lightly still. You keep your eyes on him as you bring it up to your mouth and lick a tentative stripe on the front of it. He surprises you by moaning out and grabbing onto your thighs behind him. You lick it again, eliciting another soft moan from him, before you move your mouth to press your lips in a kiss on the top of it. You open your mouth slightly and are careful not to bite down as you suck on it lightly. You feel something wet on your lips, and you move back to see the entire soul seems to be dripping thick, golden liquid, which tastes sweet and sugary when you lick it off of the soul. The golden liquid drips down your fingers and palms, dripping down to your wrists as you continue to lick and suck at the soul. The skeleton monster sitting on you lap is a moaning mess, and his eye lights glow brightly as his eye-sockets droop. Golden liquid drips out of his mouth as he makes deliciously satisfying noises and watches you through hooded sockets. The soul in your hands shutters and drips more golden liquid, before you maneuver it back into its place within the safety of his ribcage, and it fades away. You lick gold off of your index finger and grin at him as he shudders and his eye-sockets fall closed. You bring your hands towards him and guide him forwards and against your chest. Your wrap your arms around him and lay your head against his chest. You stay there for around a minute, before he pulls back and speaks. 

"Thank you. Do you want me to-" you shake your head and smile at him. His face is soft as he returns your smile, and cups your face with his phalanges, bringing you forward to kiss your forehead. "Your food is probably getting cold" You laugh at what a mundane, absurd thing to say that is and pull back to make eye contact with him as he 'nyehe's along with you. You think he's probably pretty strange, and a little absurd himself, but you also think you like that about him. You appreciate that he can say something like that entirely seriously in this kind of situation. You're pretty sure you've fallen a little bit in love with him, and you're kind of fucked. You're also pretty sure you're okay with that.


	3. Sweet as Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His name is Papyrus, he's really cute, pretty bad-ass, and something about him seems really, painfully familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to ramp up, and something big's coming.

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and you're having a nice cup of tea to start off the morning. Sighing contentedly, you lean against the railing of your porch and look over your garden, which you had just started the year before. So, even though the flowers planted had bloomed again this year, the garden was still pretty bare. You had to admit, you aren't the best at keeping up with that sort of thing. You get too busy with work to worry about something like planting more things in your garden, especially when you're constantly overworking yourself to meet ridiculous deadlines. Whoever said life as a manga artist was chill and stress free was a liar and a scoundrel. Thankfully, though, you had gotten some time of paid vacation off once you had finished your last volume; so, you have more leisure time than you know what to do with. Well, mostly. Your face heats up as you think about last night, which was spent with the skeleton (Papyrus, you had learned) until the early hours of the morning, when he had dropped you off at your house. Thankfully, you'd gotten his phone number before he could drive away. The surprised look he gave you makes your heart clench even now. He was awfully sweet (figuratively and also quite literally), so you're honestly surprised that he'd not expected you to want to see him again. You don't want to think about why that might be the case, you admit to yourself as you feel righteous anger well up through your ribcage. You take a breath and start counting down from ten, hand clenching your mug's handle hard enough to strain your joints. It takes almost a full three minutes for you to calm down slightly and carefully loosening your grip. You thought your therapy sessions might've been helping with your anger issues, at least. You take another swig of tea and shake your head. It's better to not think about things like that; if you want to keep your head, that is. Giving one last glance towards your minimal garden, you gulp your tea down and head back inside to wash your cup out and put it into the dishwasher. Once you're done with that, you slide your glass door shut and lock it, before pulling out your phone and getting ready to leave. You shoot Papyrus a text as you shove your platforms on and slide your leather jacket into its rightful place on your shoulders. 

**Me** : _Hey, Papyrus, this is your "swimming" partner from last night ;)_

**Me** : _I was wondering if you'd want to meet up later or something_

You've barely locked your front door behind you when you feel your phone vibrate its denim jail cell. Pulling it out eagerly, you smile and continue walking as you read the texts. For some reason you're not surprised that he's a multi-texter. It's a strange sort of kinship you feel in that moment. 

**Honey _Bones_** : _WOW! I DID NOT EXPECT YOU TO ACTUALLY TEXT ME_

**Honey _Bones_** : _NOT THAT I DIDNT TRUST YOU OR ANYTHING_

**Honey _Bones_** : _I JUST THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING NICE_

You chuckle at how eager he sounds over text, ignoring the pang in your heart at his admission. 

**Me** : _That's okay. I get it. Definitely in my best interest to text you, though. Otherwise i wouldn't be able to ask you if you'd like to meet up_

**Honey _Bones_** : _I WOULD LOVE TO MEET UP! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?_

You weren't, but you have the perfect place in mind immediately. 

**Me** : _Well there's this cool hole in the wall style diner called Muffet's we could go to if you wanted._

**Honey _Bones_** : _SOUNDS WONDERFUL. ILL BE THERE IN AROUND HALF AN HOUR IF THATS OKAY WITH YOU_

**Me** : _sounds Perfect! See you ther._

**Me** : _*there_

Still smiling, you shove your phone back into your pocket and practically jog down the sidewalk towards your absolute favorite place to go. Good food, friendly service, and even _better_ gossip. Even if there were always a bunch of spiders handing out. It was way easier dealing with them now than it had been when you had first walked into the diner without the foreknowledge that it was _run_ by _spiders_. It isn't like you have anything against spider monsters, but small spiders creeped you out; they could move anywhere they want at too high speeds. You suppress a shudder at the thought and shake your head. They had amazing burgers and even better fries, though; so it was definitely worth dealing with tiny spiders over. That and the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. Sadly, though, you're not a morning drinker (yet); you'd have to stick to cider. For now. 

When you make it to Muffet's, you assume that you've got there on time, seeing as almost as soon as you're able to properly see through the windows of the diner, you lay your sights on your favorite skeleton monster (doesn't matter that he's the only skeleton monster you've met) sitting in one of the booths towards the bar. A bell on the door rings as you enter, causing the gaze of the rest of the patrons (and Muffet herself) to turn on you. You smile and nod at Muffet, before heading over to where your skeleton companion is leaning over onto the table, halving his size.

"Hey, stranger," you drop down onto the booth's cushioned bench across from him with a satisfying bounce. He looks up from the table and straightens up, giving you a smile as he brings his hand to hover in the air with a weak wave, as if he doesn't quite know what to do with it. Huffing out a laugh, you lean over the table, lifting yourself off the bench slightly, to grip his hand, before dropping back down. A golden blush (as you realized it must have been) rises to his cheekbones, and his eyelights look softer, fuzzier around the edges as he smiles. 

"Hello, Again. You Look- Well. Very. Nice," his free hand reaches back to rub the base of his skull. You can't help but feel fluttery at the sight of how flustered he is. It's really kind of unbearably adorable. 

"You do, too, Papyrus. That choker suits you really well," you point out the black, spiked choker around his neck. It looks thick, like genuine leather, and the spikes are undoubtedly real metal with the way they shine under the bright lighting of the diner. Papyrus' hand drops to touch it, almost subconsciously, and he looks to the side, cheekbones still a soft gold. 

"Thank you." You're saved from having to find a new topic to discuss when Muffet clears her throat lightly from where she's now stood beside your table. It almost makes you jump: the way she can suddenly appear without either of you being the wiser. Thankfully you're able to reign in your instinctive reaction to look back at her and give her your customary grin. 

"Hey, Muffet! Nice seeing you again. This is Papyrus," you indicate when she gives you a rather pointed look, "Papyrus, this is the wonderful, illustrious, and gracious Muffet. She's the founder and owner of this fine establishment." Papyrus seems more comfortable now that it isn't just the two of you sitting there. He gives a lazy wave to the spider monster and nods his head. 

"Long time no see, Muffet. You've done pretty well for yourself. Place looks better than ever." You're hit with the sudden shock of the realization that they already know each other, but not enough that you don't notice the appraising look she gives him: her eight purple eyes squinting as she surveys him. She hums slightly, eyes going back to normal as she grins, slightly sharp, and places two menus on the table. She sends a sly glance at you. 

"Take your time to figure out what you want, dears. Though I know one of you already _knows what they want_ ," she winks and turns, walking away before you can say anything in retaliation. Your face burns with the force of your blush. Papyrus seems oblivious when you look back at him, though; he's already picked up his menu and is skimming through it with a thoughtfully furrowed brow-bone. Something in your chest warms at the sight, and you feel your expression soften as you stare at him. He's hunched over only slightly as he stares down at his menu, gold eyelights scanning and zipping across the laminated surface of it. His head is tilted to the side just a bit, and it all feels so familiar to you. Like a scent from your childhood; a word on the tip of your tongue you couldn't remember. Something you had done before and you could only feel it ingrained in your muscle memory, because human memories were just too faulty. For a split second you see a different scene. 

Papyrus' orange- no. Red. Pink. No. No. White. No. Eyelights flicker towards you and he smiles with crooked- no. Sharp. Straight, white-. Golden fanged teeth. His glasses slide down- no. No- that's not quite right. Pain splits through your head and you clench your eyes shut. It hurts. 

"Human. Are You- OH STARS!" Papyrus' panicked voice makes you crack open your eyes to glance at him. His eyes are slightly wide and he's staring at your mouth- no. Your nose. You bring a hand up and touch at it, only to feel that it's wet. It's then that you realize something's dripping down your mouth and chin- a steady stream. You pull your trembling hand from your face and, even though you knew what you would see, the red smears on your fingertips startle you. You wonder how it had happened. You hadn't had a nosebleed since you were still a child. You're so preoccupied with staring at the blood that you almost jump out of your skin when a scratchy napkin is pressed to your nose, and skeletal fingers grab your chin to hold you still. 

"Now, Head Down. We Don't Want You To Drown In Your Own Blood." You follow Papyrus' stern command, tilting your head down slightly and watching him from under your eyelashes. His panicked expression is gone, and he looks surprisingly **determined** and calm. You remember hearing how tough life in the Underground was. You remind yourself that you shouldn't really be surprised he knows how to deal with blood-. A bloody nose. Your head splits with another sharp burst of pain. Papyrus' calm expression is once again molded with worry as the blood continues to poor, dripping down your face. He's saying something, but there's a ringing, buzzing sound in your head that's getting louder, and you can't hear him over it. You feel yourself start to fall forward as black creeps at the edges of your vision. You feel like you're about to have a bad time. 


	4. Not Quite Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something feels like it's changed; a thread shifted somewhere in the very fabric of the universe. Strange dreams plague your nights, and your SOUL urges you to move, trying to pull you somewhere. Papyrus has stopped answering your texts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am quite sorry for this, dear readers.

Dust coats your fingers. You can feel it in your hair, on your face. In your throat. You choke on it, struggling to breathe. Dark shapes loom over you, and a thousand voices whisper and cackle in your ears. It smells like iron, you realize. Something cracks in your side as you're shoved to the ground forcefully. You curl in on yourself, clutching a red scarf tightly, protectively, against your chest. There's a barrage of pain from all sides. Something wet drips from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, and a silent cry rips from your throat. Your lips shape around a name. You scream and scream. But Nobody Came. 

You wake up with a choked yell, gripping your shirt with a white-knuckled grasp. You can't help but let out a shaking sob and press your face into your slightly wet pillow. After a minute of shivering and gasping in air shallowly, you let out a shaky breath. Sitting up, you release your hold on your t-shirt and bring a hand to your cheek. Your fingers are wet with tears when you pull them back, and you tiredly rub away at your eyes and cheeks with the hem of your shirt. You don't know how many more nights like this you can handle while staying at least somewhat sane. It's been a week since you first fainted in Muffet's in front of Papyrus, and you've been plagued with nightmares since. To make it worse, after sending you a text explaining that he dropped you off in your home after that, he hadn't bothered texting you since. No matter how many times you'd tried to get in contact with him. 

You try to push thoughts of the skeleton monster into the back of your head, and crawl out of your blanket cocoon. Today's a new day; you're going to do something to pull yourself out of this slump if it kills you. This has gone on for far too long. You carry yourself to the kitchen on legs that feel like lead, resolving to actually act like a functioning human being today: which means actually cooking breakfast. You pin your hair back and open the fridge, staring into it at its contents. You can do this. 

A few pans and far more utensils than you should've probably used later, you're sitting at the table with a full breakfast and a whiskey glass full of orange juice. You sigh contentedly as you take a bite of your scrambled eggs on toast. You wonder why you don't do this more often, ignoring the fact that you have a new burn on the side of your hand and that you have more dishes to do today than you've had in this past week. You have more important things to focus on, like the heavenly smell of your hash-browns. When you're done with breakfast you can get ready for the day, you remind yourself, before digging into your food. 

That leads to you standing in the living room wearing shorts and an overly large sweater under an even larger hoodie, toweling off your still damp hair. You groan as you hear your phone buzz, wondering why you still had notifications for Twitter on. You hardly ever use it any more and getting constant reminders from the website has started to get pretty annoying. It's when your phone starts actually ringing that you realize it's a person trying to get your attention, not a notification bot. You quickly slide over to where it's laying on your dining room table, almost slipping and falling on the way, before grabbing it and answering it, not bothering to look at the caller ID. Hardly anyone calls anymore; there's a small list of people it can be, none of which you want to keep waiting to long. 

"Yellow," you greet, dropping the slightly wet towel onto the back of one of the chairs slid up to the table. 

"Little sib," the slightly amused tone of your brother's voice intones from the other end of the line. You can't help but feel more relaxed already. No matter how much of an asshole Gabriel could be to other people, he was always there for you, protecting you. 

"Gabriel! What's going on; how've you been?" He chuckles at your excited reaction. 

"Very well, sib; thank you. I'm actually calling because I needed your help at the shop. One of our helpers was- laid off, and we've got a newbie that needs training. You'll be compensated, of course; I just don't trust anyone else to do it." You remember that not many people meet your brother's standards when it comes to actually getting hired at his beloved shop, since it was basically his child at this point, and wonder what someone must've done to deserve getting fired. You enjoyed working there when you were in highschool with Gabriel's friend Robin, since you've always had a fondness for pastries. It's sort of a surprising place for someone as cold-seeming as Gabriel looks at first to own, but you think it actually suits him in an odd sort of way. Maybe that's because you have a soft spot for the older man in the first place. Anyway, you like being there, and you've not got any plans anyway. It sounds like the perfect way to spend your day, actually. 

"Sure, Gabriel. That actually sounds like a good plan. When do you want me there?" 

"As soon as possible if you wouldn't mind. Robin and I have to go off on a call at noon, and I wouldn't want to leave the shop alone with the new guy." You nod along, before realizing he can't see you and verbally confirming that you understand, face burning red. You both exchange goodbyes, and you pocket your phone. You know that the place doesn't have a strict dress code, considering the pair's usual fashion styles, so you think that what you're wearing will be fine. You quickly grab two knee-high black socks off of the dryer's top and pull them on, then slip on your platform sneakers. If anyone were to say you were insecure about your height, they would be right, but they shouldn't say it. You make your way out of the house and lock it behind you, silently resenting the fact that the two of them were so far away, considering you didn't really own a car, and that you were going to have to take the city bus to the shop. Well, at least you still have your taser, just in case. This is gonna be a long thirty minute commute. 

You were right. It was a very long feeling bus ride. You had been sat next to a shifty old woman you were pretty sure was in the mafia, who smelled just a little too much like iron for your taste. Plus, there was a man a few seats down diagonal from you wearing a trench coat and fedora, which definitely made him look like a neck-beard. Thankfully, nothing too interesting happened, so you hadn't had to use your taser by the time you made it off the bus and started walking to your destination. 

The shop is just as you remembered it from your teenaged years; clean and professional, like Gabriel, but with a slightly cobbled together looking decor likely thanks to Robin. "Knightly Pastries" the sign at the front, hanging above the entrance, reads. The wooden doors open without sound, and your shoes tap against the dark wooden floorboards: covered by the sound of talking behind the door you know leads to the kitchen. The store is empty, likely because it doesn't open until twelve-thirty, and spotless. There are armchairs off to the side next to a large bookshelf, and plush mismatched chairs sitting in groups of three and four surrounding round tables scattered around the room. The glass display, front and center before said door, shows off tons of delicious looking pastries. Dessert stands on top of the display case show off smaller treats and chocolates, and you can see the cash register sitting on the attached table behind it. It's just like you remembered, and you can't help but feel the warmth in your chest at how much like coming home it feels. Your thoughts are interrupted when the door behind the counter opens, and Robin steps out, talking behind them-self to someone. 

"Exactly! And if somebody messes with you, you just call Gabey or me, and-" they turn their head and catch sight of you, then let out a happy sound and rush over to you, wrapping their arms around you and squeezing you lightly. "Mini-Gabe!" 

"Hey Robin," you cant help but laugh as you hug them back. Gabriel walks out after them and gives you a long-suffering look. 

"Robin, that doesn't make any sense. They're literally taller than me." Robin lets go of you and sticks their tongue out at him. Gabriel rolls his eyes. 

"They're younger; it counts!" They say, stepping back and crossing their arms indignantly. Gabriel steps closer to you and smiles up at you, wrapping his arms around you. You quickly swing your arms around him when he starts to pick you up and spin you around, despite the size difference. You let out a startled laugh and tuck your legs up as he sweeps you around quickly once more, before setting you back down on your feet. 

"Nice to see you, little sib." 

"You too, beefcake," you quip, trying to steady yourself as you wait for the room to stop spinning. He just grins sharply at you and turns back towards the door to the kitchen. 

"Well, we better be off, but it was wonderful seeing you again. The newbie's in the kitchen; you know the way," he says, giving your shoulder a pat and motioning Robin to follow him as he walks towards the entrance. They give you a solute and lopsided grin as they follow him out of the shop and towards his dark impala. You shrug and shove your hands in your pockets, before turning and walking to the kitchen door, which is slightly ajar still. You open it and step through, taking in the kitchen. It's just as clean as it always used to be. You stop in your place just inside the doorway as you catch sight of the new hire they've been talking about. The lanky, slightly hunched skeleton turns and smiles at you nervously with crooked, slightly sharp cracked teeth. You let out a surprised sound as your eyes widen, and you rush towards him without thinking. His eyesockets widen in surprise as you reach up and cup his face in your hands, thumbs resting against his jawbone. 

"Papyrus! My god, what happened? Who did this to you? Are you okay?" You can't stop yourself from asking, rapid fire. He gives you a confused look and you frown in concern, rubbing his jaw with your thumbs lightly. His eyesockets close as he leans into your touch silently. You wonder if this was why he hadn't been texting you back. He had been seriously injured, from the looks of it. Maybe he couldn't text you back because he needed time to recover. Orange tears drip from his eyesockets, and large, skeletal hands reach up to wrap around your shoulders. Something about it tickles the back of your mind, tugging at a memory that isn't really there. Your SOUL settles in your chest as pain flares in your head. An image flashes into your vision. 

Blood covers your hands, dripping off of your fingers. Your stomach hurts badly. Everything hurts. Papyrus stares at you in horror as you fall down. His long arms catch you and you stare up at him as your SOUL shakes. You take your last, shuttering breath as you reach up and touch his cheek. Orange tears. Your SOUL lurches, and suddenly you're back in the kitchen, holding the shaking skeleton in your arms, one hand resting on the back of his skull, which is pressed into your hoodie. 

He's quietly shuddering, and you can feel his tears soaking through your sweater. You make soothing, shushing noises as he cries, and rub soothing circles into his back(?). You tell him that everything's okay, and his hands clutch at the fabric around your waist, where his arms are wrapped around you, hugging you. He's kneeling on the tiled floor of the kitchen, as if he wasn't strong enough to hold himself up, but he's still tall enough to press his skull into the front of your shoulder. He says your name, quietly, and his voice is high pitched and disbelieving as he looks up at you. 

"How? You're-. Alive," he gets quiet, as if he's realized something important. He looks at you with awe, then: awe and an undercurrent of sadness. **Determination**. You nod as he stands, but grabs hold of one of your hands. 

"Of course I'm alive, Papyrus," you say, confusion creeping over you. "Why wouldn't I be? And you never said what happened to you," you remember suddenly. He hadn't told you how he had been so hurt. Anger burns in your stomach. You were going to kill whoever hurt him. You were going to kill them, and no one would ever find their body. No. What? The sudden anger disappears as you wonder where it came from. Your SOUL(?) pulses once, lightly. He simply shakes his head and motions to one of the chairs sitting in the kitchen: leading you over to it. You sit down as he settles in the chair opposite to yours. He takes a breath, which you wonder if he actually needs, and turns to lock his small, pinprick eyelights to your own eyes. 

"The Underground Did This To Me. Queen Undyne." Your eyebrows raise. That can't be right. Toriel was the Underground's Queen before the monsters came to the surface. You knew that, at least. Papyrus stops you before you can object. "There's Something You Should Know, And I Think I Shouldn't Be The Only One To Explain It To You," he looks briefly at the clock hanging on the wall before he he continues, "But That Will Probably Have To Wait Until After The Shop Closes." You nod in agreement, but can't help but wonder what the hell's going on, and question if you can really hold back your curiosity until then. The only thing that keeps you from closing the shop for the day, before it even opens, is the fact that Gabriel's counting on you. One thing's for sure, though, you resolve; there's no way Papyrus was going to slip from your grasp before you got an explanation. You're **determined** to make sure he doesn't.


End file.
